


Mistake

by spacecadet96



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: AU, F/F, Homura is too precious, Mind Screw, Two-Shot, seriously, what was I on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:45:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecadet96/pseuds/spacecadet96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Two-shot</p>
<p>She just felt that she was wrong. She always felt like a flaw, a smudge or a scratch on a table top, always irritating and doing something wrong. And things that are wrong, things who don't do things right and are selfish, don't deserve friends. She knew this. She just wished for a friend to tell her that it was okay, that she wasn’t wrong,that she still liked her even if no one else did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistake

Homura Akemi always felt she was wrong.

 

Not wrong in a sense of questioning, or logical reasoning. Not wrong in a sense of outward appearance or behaviour. She just felt that she was wrong. She always felt like a flaw, a smudge or a scratch on a table top, always irritating and doing something wrong. Something that wasn’t meant to be there.

 

She looked and acted well enough. Every day she would go to school and every day would be the same. The teacher would turn to them, all smiles and write down their lesson behind her. The lesson would always be etched to the board, the chalk screeching lightly as it did every time. She would turn to face them, smile still intact, and repeat the lesson she had just written. No one knew why. They were all past their basic reading level. They knew what she had written. It was just something she did. It was what she was used to.

 

“Okay, class. Today, we are all going to draw a picture of what we’d all like to be when we grow up. Don’t be shy and don’t be afraid to be as inventive and creative as you want! Now, our colour of the day is blue. Does everyone remember where the blue pens are? Good. Now, off you go and everyone hand theirs in to me at the end. Don’t forget to write your name on it!”

 

And, with that, she walked over to her desk and sat down in her chair. Homura felt herself rise out of her own and walk over to the ‘Colour Box’ at the end of the classroom. She heard the shuffling of feet and screeching of chairs as the remainder of the class accompanied her and fought the urge to place her hands over her ears. It was amazing how noises such as that could seem so much louder when there was no other sound to accompany it.

 

She observed the colours, neatly arranged in the tin. One colour for every different day of the month. Some days they would be very basic, such as red and blue, others would be more abstract such as silver or maroon red. On one particularly strange day, it had been white. She remembered wondering how the teacher could even see what they were being asked to draw on the white paper given to them. No one questioned it though.

 

Maybe that was way she always felt she was wrong. Everyone else in her class never seemed phased by the strangeness of the way things went. They never held a puzzled expression or raised their hand to ask a question as to why everything they had written had to be blue that day, or what the genuine point of the colour for this day really meant. Homura remembered the first time she had tried. The looks she had received could killed her where she sat. The same could be said for the beatings after last bell.

 

Perhaps that was why her actions could have been considered even crazier. As she observed the box in front of her, watching as everyone picked a shade of blue and shuffled back to their seats, her hand lingered. She didn’t know why. Her mind was telling her _‘Why are you waiting? Pick up a blue!’_ She really wasn’t sure what stronger, blind force inside her had her hand fall on top of a different pen, a lovely shade of light pink.

 

Almost as if she were afraid it would burn her, she closed her hand around it quickly and hurried back to her seat, making sure to conceal the cap so that no one would see that she had picked the wrong colour. Her blank paper stared accusingly at her back at her and she could feel her uniform grow tighter and the room hotter. What was she doing? The days colour was blue! Why pick up another colour!? What would the teacher say? What if everyone else saw it? If they had hated her so much for asking a question then…

 

She looked up and around to the back of the classroom. Everyone had now returned to their seats. If she were to get up now, everyone would notice. And they would stare. She couldn’t bear the thought.

She looked back at her paper, slowly bringing the pen to her paper. She hadn’t even noticed her hands were shaking. What could she do? She couldn’t draw her picture in pink… but she couldn’t hand in an empty paper either. ‘ _Maybe they’ll understand,’_ she thought, fixing her glasses. _‘Maybe I could say I didn’t know it was the wrong colour. Yes, they must understand. I can just say it was a mistake. That’s it. That’s what I’ll do. Then they’ll understand and won’t hurt me.’_

 

She knew in her heart that it was not the case. Thankfully, her mind took far less persuasion. Her hand stilled a little as the pen finally touched the paper. She then stopped. What was she meant to draw? She looked back up to the board;

 

_Today, we are all going to draw a picture of what we’d all like to be when we grow up._

 

 

She hadn’t ever given much thought to what she wanted to be. She wasn’t any smarter than anyone else and she was awful at any kind of sport. Nobody particularly liked or spoke to her. She was easy to miss, with her plaited hair and glasses that were slightly too big for her face. A background character, one that nobody fully thought of as having any motivations. In that respect, she was no different from her peers.

 

She’d often longed for someone to be like her, someone who would question the strange ways of the school, someone who would reassure her that she wasn’t the only strange one. The only wrong one. Someone who would speak to her, who would be kind to her. Someone who would smile at her.

 

_Yes_. That was what she truly wanted. It might not have been what she wanted to be but it was something she wanted in the here and now. A companion. A friend.

 

Her pen finally moved. Homura felt a panic arise inside her as the pink line jumped out, which was suddenly quelled by a soothing feeling. It was one she had never experienced before, a comforting calmness that cooled her mind and enclosed her heart. She felt herself relax and her shoulders slowly droop as she drew her companion on the paper in front of her.

 

She wanted her to be pretty. She took extra care to shade her eyes properly, making them appear warm and alive. She drew the uniform similar to her own, adding the pleats of the skirt and neat bow near the neck. Her hair was up in pigtails near the top of her head, flowing free unlike Homura’s own which was in tight plaits at her shoulders. The hardest was the smile. She agonised over it, determined to make it perfect. It was a small smile, gentle and captivating, telling her everything was okay, that she wasn’t wrong, that she still liked her even if no one else did. By the time she was finished and the final bell rang out, Homura felt happier than she could ever remember.

 

It was her happiness that lead to mistakes. As she moved to place her drawing upon the pile on the desk, she momentarily forgot to conceal her grave misdeed and placed it face up upon the top of the pile. The teacher immediately froze. Homura felt her face twist, horrified at her carelessness. She could practically feel the intrigued stares of her classmates behind her. After what seemed like an eternity, her teacher finally spoke.

 

“Miss Akemi. Stay after class. You and I need to have a very serious discussion.”

 

Her voice was like stone. It seemed to echo throughout the classroom long after she had finished speaking. Too scared to offer any reply, Homura felt herself nod turned to sit in the closest seat in front of her, casting her gaze down to avoid the expressions of her peers. Her palms felt like rubber and her skirt hitched uncomfortably. Her teacher never took her eyes away from her until the last student had left the room.

“So… Miss Akemi. Would you like to explain to me what exactly this is meant to be?”

She held up Homura’s drawing, her face stoic. Homura found herself unable to swallow and her tongue felt like sandpaper as she forced herself to speak.

“I-It’s a… girl, Miss.”

“I can see that, Miss Akemi. I can see that very clearly. What I would like to know is not only why this is not what you were asked to do, but why it is not done in the colour of today.”

Homura’s mind went blank. She could find no response for her actions. If it had only been the colour or the drawing, she may have been able to formulate an excuse. However, with both actions, she had no chance. When she received no answer, her teacher stood up and began to move towards her, her heels clacking against the polished floor.

“Allow me to make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Akemi. This,” she held the paper in front of Homura’s face “is absolutely unacceptable. And it must _never_ happen again. At this school, we do not tolerate those who try to make trouble for others to satisfy themselves. We have a school community that every student is required to contribute to. And I assure you…” she suddenly brought her face several inches away from Homura’s own, the heat of her breath making Homura feel as if she were shrinking “… we will **_not_** take kindly to those who disrupt that community. Do I make myself clear, Miss Akemi?”

Her voice was practically a whisper now, low and dangerous.

“Y-Yes, miss. I-I swear I won’t do it again.”

“Good!”

All of a sudden her smile flashed back on, her teeth appearing larger than they were due to the curl of her upper lip.

“Run along now, Miss Akemi! We don’t want to waste any more time with this nonsense, do we?”

She held Homura’s paper between her fingertips in front of her, almost as if a full grip might cause her to become infected. Swiftly and heartlessly, she ripped the drawing in two. It fell to the ground, lightly swaying in the breeze of the classroom. Homura could only stare.

“… No, Miss. We don’t.”

With that, she rose from her seat and slowly departed, ever aware of her teacher’s hawk-like stare as her shoes scuffed the polished floor. Her drawing remained on the surface of the ground, the pink lines of her friends face now torn.

_It’s stupid,_ Homura thought to herself as she walked down the hall, _people like me don’t deserve friends. Mistakes don’t deserve friends._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This will be a planned two-shot. And it’ll generally be pretty mind-screwy. Seriously, I woke up one day and found half of this written in my documents. It took me ages to remember that I’d drank too much Irn Bru and stayed up till one in the morning watching ‘Don’t hug me, I’m scared’. I guess this was the result. In case you couldn’t tell, this is a complete AU in a pretty freaky-ass universe. Next part will be published soon and I hope you all enjoyed this little bit of ‘what even in the…’.


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